"Jake?" He didn't turn to respond to Jenna, but started sliding equipment and furniture in front of the door. "What are you doing?"

"We have to talk, Jenna."

"What are you doing here?"

The doctor's shadowy form appeared in the sliver of frosted window in the door. He started pounding. "Open up!"

Jake backed away. "We don't have much time; you need to hear me out." He turned to face Jenna.

She'd been getting undressed, and was now frantically pulling her jeans back on. "Are you insane?!"

"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"

She glared at him. "What? Why... It- it's complicated!"

"This isn't just your decision to make."

"It's my body!"

"But it's our child!"

"It's not a child, it's a mistake! I'm not supposed to be pregnant; I'm on the pill! How was I going to tell you, Jake? You would have thought I was playing some kind of game with you, trying to force you to marry me. I couldn't live with that!"

"But you didn't even give me a chance."

There was more pounding on the door. A hollow voice yelled, "The police are on the way!"

"Jake!" She pleaded with her eyes. "Let them in."

"Not until you promise me you won't go through with this."

"I have to! I can't wait another day. I can't let it grow inside me and become something I'll regret removing."

"She already is something, Jenna."

Jenna looked aghast. "She?"

"We're going to have a girl." He looked at Aiyana cowering in the corner. "If only you could see her, Jenna. She's beautiful and talented like you, and quietly observant like me, and when she smiles it makes my heart melt. She isn't a blob of tissue, she's a frightened little girl. She's our daughter."

The denial on Jenna's face turned to outrage. "What are you trying to pull, Jake?" She spat out his name. "Do you think this is easy for me? I'm doing this for you! I'm doing this because you lost your job, and I have a chance to help us get through this without losing everything."

"Jenna, I know you..."

"I'm doing this because I don't want you to feel trapped into marrying me."

"I know, Jenna..."

"And you come in here with this bull c.r.a.p story about how this is a little girl inside me? How dare you? HOW DARE YOU!"

The objects in front of the door slid easily as the door pushed open. A uniformed officer pointed a pistol at Jake. "Hands where I can see 'em! Down on the floor!"

Jake could feel the weapon pointed at him; his hands flew up reflexively.

"Down on the floor!" The officer pushed past the threshold. "Down!"

Jake crumbled to the ground.

"Don't hurt him!" cried Jenna. "He's my boyfriend, and he's not armed!"

The officer gripped one wrist firmly and cuffed it. Jake's face pressed into the cold tile floor. The officer grabbed the other wrist and clamped the cuff around it. Then two sets of hands lifted him off the floor.

"Jenna! Don't do this!" Jake's voice cracked. "She's real, Jenna! Our daughter is real!"

Jenna stood like a zombie in front of the bed. Aiyana was crouched down beside her, knuckles pressed to her lips, fear glistening in her innocent eyes.

Jake began to thrash. "You have to believe me, Jenna! Don't do this! Don't do this! She's real! She's real!"

The police dragged him from the room.

Chapter 50.

For Dan Clark it was like looking at high-motion film. Hundreds of frames flashed before his eyes as Holly's body fell backwards over the edge of the bridge. His eyes locked onto her ankle, and every muscle in his body launched him forward with one singular objective: s.n.a.t.c.h it! Adrenaline-heightened senses calculated the angle of her rising toes as his hands found their mark just above the foot. Her body swung down and hit hard against the side of the bridge.

"No! Let go! Let me go!" she screamed.

He gripped her with every ounce of strength he had as her body flailed over the rapids far below. Her skin burned in his grip, and the cement bit into his triceps.

She screamed into the wind, writhing and kicking, "You're killing my son! You're killing him!"

Her words solidified what he already knew. Holly wasn't the killer. It was all just a twisted game straight out of the mind of a lunatic. Somehow he'd crawled into her head and convinced her that the only way to save her son was to take her own life, and she had swallowed it, hook, line, and sinker.

As she'd stood on the lip of the bridge giving her horrible confession, he knew the words were not hers. She was his childhood crush, he had watched her for years and knew things about her she probably didn't even know about herself. Holly Paris couldn't kill anyone, she wouldn't even harm a fly-quite literally. She'd once caught a fly in a paper cup during one of their many high school study halls together, and instead of squishing it, she had released it out the cla.s.sroom window. Her friends had teased her, but Dan never forgot the mercy she had shown to that insect.

"Let go!" she screamed.

Dan hung on with all his might, as Holly resisted violently. Soon Agent Perez was at his side grabbing for her other leg, and together they hauled her over the bridge, kicking and thrashing.

"She's going to kill him! Let me go!"

They laid her on the pavement. "What are you saying, Holly?" he said. "Do you know who has Gabe?"

She struggled to break free. "Amber!" she screeched.

"We know," said Agent Perez. "We just got the call."

Holly's eyes opened like she was demon possessed. Her body went rigid against their restraint. "SHE'S HERE!"

Perez fought to keep her knee from catching him in the chin. "Where? On the bridge?"

"In the blue car! Across the street! Let go! Let me go!"

Dan's eyes leveled on Perez. "Don't let her go. You let her go and I'll make you pay every day of your life!" He released his grip and climbed onto the car next to them. It was enough to get him above the gathered throng. Four lanes across, he saw a blue car creeping down the breakdown lane. Was that her?

He launched off the hood and pushed through the sea of gawkers. His sneakers slapped the pavement and his arms and legs moved like a machine. The blue car had a ten car lead on him that was increasing with every step, but the traffic at the bottom of the hill would stop her. He hoped.

His lungs burned as he sprinted down the lane after the ever-shrinking car. There was a flash of brake lights as it slowed at the bottom; a squad car had pulled into the breakdown lane, cutting off her escape. The door flew open and he saw her scramble across to the other side of the bridge.

Dan cut in front of a crawling SUV and slid over the hood of a mustang that was sitting on the b.u.mper of the car in front of it. Amber was heading for the edge and the railroad dump below the bridge. If she could get in there, it would be over.

He ignored the cramp in his thigh and the explosion of every capillary in his skin as he drove himself harder. She was crawling over the edge of the bridge, and he had twenty feet left to run.

She disappeared from view. He gasped for air, looking frantically over the edge. She had already made it around the area of trees below and was heading into the old train yard.

He climbed over, dangled, and dropped down onto the top of the cement embankment under the bridge. Through the trees he caught a glimpse of her running around a rusted metal barrier used to part.i.tion the junk yard. He slid down the concrete embankment and broke into a run. If she remained undetected in the old rail yard, she would probably work her way up behind the casino and attempt to get to the city center.

Dan knew this area; it was his old stomping grounds. It was a long shot, but if he could get around her while she attempted to hide in the rail yard, he could catch her when she came out behind the real estate office. It wasn't the most obvious exit, but it had the best overhead coverage. He could already hear a police helicopter in the distance.

He climbed a gra.s.sy hill and ran along the outside of the rusted metal barrier until he reached an access road leading up to the main street. She had avoided the road, because it would have exposed her, but he didn't have that issue-or at least he hoped he didn't. It would have been a terrible miscalculation if some SWAT sniper didn't get the memo that the killer was a woman.

His body was on fire when he reached the sidewalk just past the casino, all he could manage now was a brisk jog. But if he was correct, it would be enough to keep him in front of her. He scanned the junk yard below through the chain link fence that ran along the sidewalk, as he jogged down to the front of the real estate office. Sweat poured from his skin as he paced in the shade under the front awning.

She had to come up this way. There was a path below that led up through tall gra.s.s to the chain link fence at the back of the parking lot behind the building. There was a good foot of erosion under it, and it was easy enough to climb under. This was the most obvious exit, and to get from the parking lot to the neighborhoods across the street, she would have to have another vehicle...

He ran down along the side of the building and came to an abrupt stop. She was climbing up under the fence, just as he had predicted.

She stood upright, and their eyes met.

Her hand came up instantly. "Dan," she said, panting for breath. "You don't know what you're doing. Just walk away." In her other hand was a phone.

He attempted to hide his exhaustion. "Why don't you explain it to me, Amber?"

She lifted the phone. "If I hit send, Gabe dies. Just let me go, Dan; it was never my intention to kill him."

They circled each other in the parking lot.

"You expect me to believe you? What have you been smoking? You're a serial killer."

The sound of sirens and the approaching beat of helicopter blades intensified her stance.

"I don't have time for this! Do you want to be responsible for the death of Holly's son?!" she spat. "This is how this is going to go down. You are going to let me get in this car and watch me drive away, RIGHT NOW, or I am going to press this b.u.t.ton and end Gabe's suffering!"

"How do I know you won't press it anyway?" he said, tortured by the thought.

"Because I love him." Her chin tightened and her eyes watered.

Was it true? Did she really love him? Had she planned on killing him but gotten too close? Dan tried to put a hook in reality. His next move could extinguish a little boy's life. He had to make the right call. Amber's thumb rested on the trigger; time had run out.

He threw up his hands. "Fine! You win. Go! Just don't hurt him."

She backed toward the car and fumbled for the handle. But it was too late. A siren made a quick bleat as a police cruiser appeared from behind the rear of the building.

Amber turned toward Dan.

He could see the defeat written in her dead eyes. "If you had only left me alone, I would be long gone and this wouldn't have happened." She held the phone up where he could see it. "It's done," she said. "He's gone. You killed him."

At first the shock of her words didn't allow him to believe what she had said, but then a wave of nausea kicked him in the gut. She had pressed the b.u.t.ton, and, just like that, it was over. There was no chance to leap for the phone, no opportunity for a last minute rescue. Gabe was dead, and it was all his fault. If he hadn't intercepted her, Gabe would still be alive. How would he ever explain this to Holly? She would never forgive him for killing her son.

Amber looked down at the phone in her hand and an odd expression crossed her face. She lifted the phone to her ear. Listened. Then her jaw went slack.

Chapter 51.

Trees flew past outside the black sedan as Angela Grant raced down a thin country road, scanning each approaching mailbox for the number 1224. According to the directions, the mailbox was white on black, and at its base was a flower pot. There it was, exactly as it had been described.

She punched the brake pedal and pealed up the dirt driveway to a yellow house with brown shutters. The place looked deserted. All the plants on the front porch were dead, and the house looked like it hadn't been tended in months. How had her people missed that?

She strode to the front door, opened the screen and gave the k.n.o.b a twist. It was locked. It would have been nice to have Perez here; he would have made easy work of the door. But he wasn't, so she had to improvise.

She looked around, grabbed a porch chair, and with one heave, threw it through a window. She blocked her face as gla.s.s exploded and wood splintered, then quickly climbed inside.

The dimly lit living room was quiet, and the air was still. She slid her handgun from its holster and listened. There was a noise coming from somewhere, but it was distant and nondescript. She bypa.s.sed a search of the first floor and headed straight up the stairs on a hunch. In the video feed, the killer was standing in a room outside of a bedroom. If her hunch was correct, Gabe would be tied up in that room.

Halfway up the stairs Angela heard people talking. She gripped her gun with both hands, and crept down the hall. Her shoulder came to rest against the wall just before a white wooden door; she strained to hear the conversation. It was a man and a woman, and there was music. Suddenly it clicked. It wasn't a live conversation, it was a movie.

She opened the door carefully, for it was not uncommon for kidnappers to leave b.o.o.by traps to keep out unwanted guests. Usually the traps were rigged to be dismantled from the outside, to provide the kidnapper access in an emergency, so she went slowly, examining the door jam and the ever-increasing crack at the top and bottom of the door for any sign of a thread. It was clear.

Slowly she slid through the doorway, her weapon sweeping the room. The bedroom was empty. She moved quickly to the open door where the sound was coming from and saw light flickering from the interior. She pushed the door open with her foot and peeked around the corner. There was Gabe, in the center of the room, just as she'd hoped he would be.

It had all come together for her when Gary Carter got to the bottom of his laundry list of how he figured out Amber was the Cape murderer. He'd asked Amber about the dead plants around her grandmother's house, and she had claimed it was because her grandmother was too sick to care for them, but Carter was suspicious. Amber's grandmother had been a florist all her life, and if she wasn't able to care for those flowers, he knew she would have called someone to help her. So Carter started poking around and found the grandmother's dead body in a shallow grave in the back yard.

And that's when she realized what had happened. Amber had come back from her flight early in the morning, took Gabe from the apartment, and brought him to her grandmother's house.

Gabe sat helpless in the center of the room duct taped to a kitchen chair. His face was wet from crying, and the grey tape on his mouth glistened as light from the HD television reflected off the wetness. He immediately started crying again when he saw her. Her first instinct was to run to him and free him from the horrible ma.s.s of grey tentacles, but her training kicked in.

"It's okay, Gabe. I'm here to help you." She scanned for traps as she spoke gently to him. "Have you seen Amber recently?"

He shook his head.